


Now

by ProcrastinateLater



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Humor, M/M, Masturbation, Mild Language, Possible Rating Change, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-12
Updated: 2014-11-28
Packaged: 2018-02-25 02:39:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2605544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProcrastinateLater/pseuds/ProcrastinateLater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Jean Kirschtein transfers to Trost Academy (admittedly against his will) and is immediately thrown into his new campus, classes, dorm, and roommate: Marco Bodt.<br/>How Jean Kirschtein learned to experience now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Headlines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which I'm a dumb fuck

The date was Friday, November 7, 2014, and the headlining story was:

“JEAN KIRSCHTEIN IS GAY AS FUCK!”

Or I mean, that’s how I put it. A better example might be something like:

“Oh dear Lord, our sweet baby Jeanbo is a filthy homosexual and is going to hell!”

Although at this point I’d long since stopped caring, my mind flashed back to a time when this headline was something that I feared the most.

Anyway, I’ll back this up a few hours to get to why exactly this statement has made its way to the front page.

 

This fateful day began when I got home from school around two-thirty this afternoon. Nothing eventful was going on. No one was home yet aside from myself, as was the norm around here.

I walked in the house, wolfed down a couple of sandwiches, did a bit of homework, the usual.

Watched some TV, got bored, got horny, went in my room, put in some _very loud and sound canceling headphones…_

And this was how my mother came to walk into my bedroom while I had my dick in my hand jerking off to a couple of men in some _very_ compromising positions.

Screaming ensued on both ends, she cried a little and made a very stern call to my dad that demanded he left work to come home _right that instant_.

An hour later and my dad was home. More shit ensued, after which I was locked in my room while they “discussed some things.”

 

Several hours and a book and a half later, my door opened and my parents both walked in with solemn looks on their faces. The jury had reached their verdict.

“Jeanbo…” Mom began, looking not at me but at my father. He continued for her.

“We’ve decided that it would be best if you went to school somewhere else.”

I just looked at him.

“The facility is called Trost Academy,” he went on, handing me a pamphlet. “We will be driving you to the campus on Sunday.” With this, they left, closing the door behind them.

Yes, hello. My name is Jean Kirschtein and I actually allowed my hardcore Christian, bible-thumping mother to catch me masturbating to gay porn. Some people might call me the stupidest kid on the planet.

I would agree with them.

I tossed the stupid fucking pamphlet on my desk and laid back on my bed. A fucking _academy_. I went to Rose Public now, where you could buy a pack of smokes in any bathroom if you’re there at the right time. Where the hell am I going to buy smokes at an _academy_?

One nice thing about being the huge fucking loser I am is that I don’t exactly have a whole bunch of friends that I’ll miss apart from the stray cat I always stop to pet on the way home from school.

God, I’ll miss that cat.

 

Hours passed as I laid there, only getting up once to take a piss. I received dirty looks from the end of the hall as I made my way from my room to the bathroom and back. I decided that it would be better if I had skipped dinner.

Around 10 p.m., curiosity had finally gotten the better of me and I crossed the room to get the _stupid fucking pamphlet_ and promptly returning to my bed. The first thing I saw was the pictures of some boys walking…in their uniforms. Oh no.

The next thing that caught my attention was the fact that it was a _Christian_ academy. At this I groaned. Of course! Where else would my parents send their gay son but to a Christian academy. “Pray the gay away!” What bullshit.

Then I saw it, underneath where the name of the school was. Yes, my new school was in fact called Trost Academy, but that’s not the _full_ name.

It’s Trost Academy for Boys.

I laughed.

* * *

The night came and went, and Saturday was filled with packing and more dirty looks. I had a bit of an internal crisis of not being able to choose which t-shirts I’d be able to pack that stressed me out to the point where I had to take a nap to relax.

I also skipped meals that day; instead I opted to make a pot of mac n cheese at midnight after my parents were asleep.

Sunday morning came and my two suitcases and a backpack were loaded into my parents’ sedan, and thus began the most awkward two-hour long car drive. I spent the majority of this slumped in the back seat with headphones jammed in my ears, blasting music at a volume that would ensure deafness by the time I was in my early twenties.

This slow self-disabling was only interrupted by the occasional (you guessed it) dirty glace back at me.

 

After what was surely a lifetime later, we pulled into the _gates_ (fucking gates) of Trost Academy for Boys. I still had to suppress a chuckle at that.

Right into the gates was the parking lot where the teachers (and perhaps the students) presumably parked. And lo and behold, even though it’s a Sunday and there was only a few cars actually parked in the parking lot, my dad drove right passed it and parked _right in front of the fucking school_.

This was wonderful, of course, because any students who so happened to be lounging around nearby instantly looked over to us, and I swear I could feel eyes drilling into the back of my beanie-clad skull the moment I stepped out of the forsaken sedan.

With my bags in tow I trailed behind my parents as we made our way into the Administration building. Once there, the secretary (by the name of Petra Ral, I gathered from her nametag) directed us into an office that read “Erwin Smith” beside the door.

My father entered first, then my mom and I, tagging along behind. When we entered, a tall blond man who I suspected was this Erwin Smith arose from behind the large desk.

“Hello, I’m Mr. Smith, the Academy’s principal,” he said, confirming my suspicions. “And you must be Mr. and Mrs. Kirschtein,” he finished, reaching across the giant fucking desk to shake my parents’ hands.

“Yes, I’m George, and this is my wife Deline,” my father said, returning the formality. Then, almost as a side note, he added, “That’s our son Jean.”

“Please, take a seat,” Smith said, motioning to the chairs facing his desk. We complied.

This is when Smith started talking about the school and my parents pretended to give a shit.

And let me say this much: I felt fucking ridiculous. I sat in between my parents glowering while they talked to the fucking principal like I was in a parent-teacher conference from elementary school.

I wonder if keeping his eyebrows from falling off of his face required a constant conscious effort on Smith’s part. Seriously, those things were huge. Like two opossums crawled on his face and _died._

Eventually I heard the door open. I turned to look, and a short blond kid entered. Mr. Smith began talking again, but this time addressing me.

“Jean, this is Armin Arlert, our student representative.” Armin waved. “He’ll show you to you around, and then to your room. I’ll have someone take your bags down for you.

I nodded, and with only a quick glance at my parents I got up, following Armin out of the room, and then out of the Administration building.

“You can find your teachers here during office hours, if you need anything or if you have a question,” he said, pointing behind us at the doors we just walked out of.

 

We walked around the campus for at least a half hour, and this place was fucking huge. He’d point at different buildings and tell me what each was for as we passed.

“Each department has its own building, you see,” he said, motioning all around us.

He showed me the gym, library, and cafeteria where a few students still lingered finishing their lunches. Behind the gym there were tennis and basketball courts, a few of which were presently in use. I noticed that no one was wearing the uniforms that were on the pamphlet, but that was probably because it’s a weekend.

Across from the Administration building passed all of the departments buildings were the dorms. It was a two story building, and had students wandering in and out of it at a leisurely pace. We were headed in that direction.

Once inside, Armin looked at the stupid fucking clipboard he had been carrying around.

“Looks like you’re in room… C208!” he exclaimed, leading me up the steps to my room.

As we walked, I examined the room numbers on the doors. The way that it was set up would take a while to get used to. Hell, this whole place would take a while to get used to.

“I’m assuming your parents ordered your uniform?” Armin said, looking at me.

“Probably,” I replied, shrugging. Armin nodded.

“Alright. Someone will be by with it later.” A moment later, he came to a stop, and I nearly crashed into him.

“This is it!” he said, motioning to a door. Indeed, it read “C208”, just as Armin said. I reached out and opened the door, stepping in.

“This is your roommate, Mar—oh,” he said, stopping upon realizing that no one was in the room. He quickly regained his composure before beginning again.

“Well, he’s obviously not in right now, but you’ll be sharing this room with Marco Bodt. He’s super nice, and I’m sure you’ll get along nicely.” I nodded, looking around the room. My bags were sitting on one of the beds which I assumed was to be mine.

“I’ll leave you to get unpacked and settled in. I’m sure Marco will be back soon, but if you need anything, I’m in the next hall over in D203, so come and get me if you need anything.” With that he was gone, shutting the door behind him.

I was alone.

The room had two of everything, excluding a closet, window, door, and bathroom, which there was only one of. Holy shit, we get our own bathrooms.

Upon inspection, I realized that only half of the closet was being used. I hung some of my shirts up, and what I couldn’t fit in there was shoved in the empty dresser along with my pants, underwear, and socks. I put my shower stuff in the bathroom and dumped my multiple pair of converse in the bottom of the closet (on my side). My computer and backpack was put on the empty desk.

I shoved the now-empty suitcases under my bed and collapsed onto it, and without necessarily meaning to, I fell asleep.


	2. The Introductions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which I'm given a headache.

“Marco, why is there someone asleep in your room?”

I started awake and bolted upwards. Well, I suppose that _tried_ to bold upwards would be a better description, considering that when I started to rise, I head-butted the bald kid that was hovered, I kid you not, an inch over my unconscious form.

“WHAT THE FUCKING HELL?” I screamed. Said kid was now on the floor, rubbing his forehead.

“What the fucking hell yourself man, I just wanted to know why you were asleep in Marco’s room,” he said, glancing up at me and then over to a person standing in the doorway.

He stood leaning against the door frame, rubbing his neck. He was a little taller than me with a wider build and dark hair, parted in the middle. His tanned cheeks were grazed with freckles. No, fuck _grazed_ , he had freckles plastered all over his face.

“Con, I told you yesterday that I was getting a roommate….” He turned to me. “Hi, I’m Marco.”

“Jean,” I muttered, now also rubbing my forehead. The kid (Con?) spoke up.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry about that, bruh.”

“Welcome to TAB, Jean,” Marco said, stepping further into the room. “What year are you in?”

“Senior.”

“Alright, cool, so am I,” he replied, grinning. “Connie here is a Junior,” he finished, motioning to baldy, still on the floor. Marco was now sitting on his own bed, adjacent to mine. Just then, Connie’s ass buzzed, and he pulled his phone out of his back pocket. Tapping the touch screen, he held it up to his ear.

“Yeah?” he answered, pulling himself up to his feet. “Yeah, we’re coming, Marco had to stop off at his room.” Muffled voices could be heard from the other end. “Alright, we’ll be there soon. Yeah, later.” He pressed the screen again, before shoving the device back into his pocket. He turned to look at Marco.

“Bruh, they’re waiting for us at Titan’s. Let’s go.”

“Yeah, okay,” Marco said, getting up and walking towards the door with Connie. He was almost beyond the threshold (Connie was surely halfway down the hall, man he could go) when he turned back to look at me.

“Say, Jean…” he began, trailing off. He brought his hand back up to rub his neck. _“It must be a nervous gesture,”_ I thought.

“Yeah?” I replied, motioning for him to continue.

“Do you want to come to Titan’s with us?” he asked. I just sort of sat there. He continued, rambling on.

“I mean, it’s this pizza joint in town, where Connie and I meet up with some other friends a lot.” I wondered why he was looking at me like that until I realized that he was _probably_ expecting an answer.

_Nice fucking job, Kirschtein._

”Yeah, sure. Why not,” I said. I mean, I’d have to cancel my plans of sitting around feeling sorry for myself, but you’ve got to do what you got to do. I stood up and adjusted my beanie, and followed Marco out of the room.

 

So it turned out that Marco can drive. I crawled into the back of Marco’s white Mini Cooper while Connie took shotgun. This, naturally, left me feeling like the awkward third wheel.

The drive into town only took about ten minutes. I learned during this time that Connie _loves_ country music. I also learned that Marco, much like myself, despises the stuff. This led to an excited Connie joyously singing to Hunter Hays for the entire journey with Marco and myself hopeless to even attempt to stop it.

Upon our arrival at Titan’s, Connie insisted that we stayed in the car long enough for him to finish this song, after which we all got out and walked into the restaurant.

A sign hung above the counter that read “TITAN’S” in big bold letters. Next to the writing there was an image depicting a giant man holding a slice of pizza above his head with his head tilted upwards as if he were about to devour the entire thing in one bite.

I was called out of my inspection of the Titan’s sign when a voice rose above the medium tones of other customer’s chatter.

“Marco! Con!” It yelled. The voice sounded roughly female, but it was hard to tell as it also sounded to be muffled by a mouthful of pizza. “Over here!”

I followed the two boys’ line of sight to the corner of the restaurant. Nine people sat at the corner booth with a circular table in the center. Where there wasn’t room on the booth, chairs were pulled up to the opening on the table. There were two…no, three pizzas on the table, one of which was almost gone.

A girl with red-brown hair pulled in a ponytail was _actually standing on the goddamn booth,_ attracting not only our attention but also that of every other pizza enthusiast in the joint. She was waving one hand frantically in the air (like we couldn’t already see her) while the other was being used to shove the rest of a piece of pizza in her mouth. She called again.

“Mah-o! Cohey!” ‘Cohey’ rushed over, weaving his way in between tabled and plopped himself down on the booth next to her, and she finally relinquished her position atop the seat. Marco and I, instead, took our time walking over. When we finally got over, greetings were to be had. Choruses of “Hey Marco,” and “What’s up, man” were heard. I, personally, received the occasional curious look or two before Marco stepped in.

“Hey guys, this is my new roommate, Jean,” he said. Faint murmurs of “Hey,” and “Jean,” were heard. Consider me flattered. I waved.

Now, Marco went around introducing the rest of the group. Christa was a cute, small blonde girl that gave me a sheepish smile. Next to here was Ymir, a taller girl with freckles (much like Marco’s) who glared between myself and Christa’s smile (I could almost _hear_ her saying _“No.”_ ). Next there was Annie, another blonde, however her expression was nowhere near as inviting as Christa’s. Beside her was Mr. Tall and Taller; a.k.a Bertolt and Reiner; who each gave a small wave. Eren was a kid of average height and eyes that could only be described as determined. These eyes are the very same that barely spared me a glance as he was in the middle of a very in-depth conversation with Mikasa, the Asian girl next to him wearing a red scarf.

I learned that the girl with her face full of pizza was called Sasha, and I had already met Connie. Finally, Marco was about to introduce the last person when I jumped in.

“Actually, I kind of met Armin already,” I said, looking down at him. He nodded enthusiastically, causing longer blond hair to shake all about.

“Yeah,” he agreed, addressing Marco. “I showed him around earlier when he first arrived and took him to your guy’s room.”

“Oh, alright, cool!” Marco grinned, motioning for me to sit. I complied, and he slid in after me.

 

During our stay at Titan’s, time seemed to disappear. I learned that the girls all attended our sister school, Trost Academy for _Girls_. Sasha and Connie were the only juniors in the group. Marco, Eren, Armin, Mikasa, Christa, Ymir, Annie, Bertolt, Reiner and I were all seniors.  
Marco informed me that Eren and Mikasa were step-siblings, and she keeps him from getting into too much trouble. Eventually, the conversation turned to me.

“So why’d you transfer to TAB, Jean?” Armin asked. I coughed before stuttering out an answer.

“I… Uh… My mom she… she thought I needed ‘fixing’ or whatever.” Smooth Jean. Not quite a lie, not exactly the truth. Smoothness aside, I could feel a blush rising to my cheeks, so I tried to mask it by tucking my chin and mouth into my gray hoodie. “Ah, what about you guys?”

Surprisingly, I was not met with any ‘Praise Jesus’ stories or whatever. Some of their parents simply didn’t want them to attend public school. Eren had been expelled from just about every other school in the area for fighting, and so Mikasa and Armin and transferred with him. Marco mentioned that he transferred for Trost’s music program. I would have to remember to ask him about it later.

 

The following hours were spent in this manner, with me getting to know everyone and vice versa, all the while managing to steer clear of why I transferred to TAB. And suddenly, without anyone really realizing it was past six in the evening. Everybody agreed that it was probably time to get back to school.

Marco, Connie and I were the first to get up to leave, and we were bid farewell in the manner of “Bye, guys!” and “See you around, Jean!”

The ride home mirrored the drive there in the way of Connie belting out the lyrics to “Shake It Off” by Taylor Swift. Honestly, this wasn’t even country but he insisted that it qualified because of her first albums. This time around, however, Marco and I argued with him the whole way.

“TURN THAT SHIT OFF, CONNIE!” I’d yell. He’d turn back to glare at me from the front seat.

“THERE’S NO SILENCING T SWIFT!”

“YOU CAN’T EVEN SING, CON!” Marco’d come back with, both of us trying to stifle our laughter.

“NEVER!”

It was a strange thing to not feel like an outsider, even if it’s just in this moment.

 

Somehow, we made it back to the school without wrecking due to Connie’s tone-deafness and we marched our way across campus back to the dorms where we left Connie to go to his room on the first floor. Marco and I made our way upstairs and he unlocked our door for us, all the while listening to Connie’s singing (still) becoming fainter and fainter until it disappeared completely.

Once inside, Marco went over to his desk and pulled open a drawer, scrounging around for a moment before pulling something out and tossing it to me. I caught it (barely) and saw what it was: a key.

“The second key for the room,” Marco said.

“Cool, thanks,” I nodded, going over to my own desk to find my Batman lanyard to put the key on.

I put the lanyard back in my bag and sat down in the small swivel chair in front of it and looked around the room.  
I’m not quite sure how I missed it, perhaps it was from emotional exhaustion, but I now realize that Marco had a thirty-something inch TV in the room, fully equipped with an Xbox and DVD player. If I’d known, maybe I’d have brought some of my games or movies.

I crawled over to the small entertainment center it stood on and looked over to Marco.

“Hey, Marco?”

“Hmm?” he replied, focused on reading what appeared to be a textbook.

“Do you mind?” I asked, pointing at the drawer where I assumed the games to be. He looked over, before shaking his head.

I opened the drawer and pawed through the game, seeing several of the games in the _Assassin’s Creed_ and _Fable_ series.

“Hell yeah,” I breathed in what I had _thought_ to be a quiet tone, but Marco had looked up again.

“You play?” he asked, coming over to look at the games I held.

“Do I play?” I retorted, looking up at him with a questioning look. “Did Sasha just eat an entire pizza by herself?”

“Fair enough,” he laughed, recalling the image of her leaning on Connie looking like she was about to be sick. “We’ll play sometime, yeah?” I nodded. Just then, a knock came from the door, so I got up to answer it.

On the other side of the door stood a man with dark hair and a bored expression. Although he was shorter than myself, it wasn’t difficult to conclude that he was a teacher.

“Jean Kirschtein?” he asked in a monotone, like he didn’t really care. I nodded in confirmation. “Here,” he said, shoving piles of folded clothing into my arms. And without a word more, he was gone, striding down back down the hallway. I turned to Marco with a questioning look, closing the door.

“That’s your uniform,” he said, chuckling. “And that,” he continued, pointing towards where the short man stalked off to. “That was Levi Ackerman, one of the Math teachers. Call him Levi though, not Mr. Ackerman, or he’ll have your head. I’d recommend staying on his good side.”

“Duly noted.”

 

He spent the rest of the night studying while I attempted to straighten out some of the clothing and shoes that I had essentially dumped everywhere. I hung the uniforms up on my side of the closet. Around ten, Marco turned to me.

“We should get to bed. Class tomorrow.” I nodded in agreement.

I changed into some sweatpants in the bathroom while he changed in the room, and we each went to our beds, turning off the lights. A minute after we had each laid down, I

spoke up.

“Marco?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

“What for?” he asked.

“For taking me out with you guys earlier.”

“It was no problem, man. Really.”

I rolled over and faced the wall.

“’Night, Marco.”

“Goodnight, Jean,” came from the other boy.

I fell asleep shortly afterwards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys if you could let me know if you find any spelling or grammar mistakes, that'd be great.  
> Also, letting me know how you guys are liking it would be v fab.
> 
> I have a tumblr: helll-ena


	3. The Freckles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which I'm late and cry over a dog.

I was awoken by being poked repeatedly in the shoulder. Rather than using actual comprehensible words, I let out a garbled string of sounds that may have sounded like “What time is it?”

“Jean, you’ve got to wake up,” Marco said. I allowed my eyes to open so that a sliver of light could be seen. He stood over my bed, waiting for a response. I tried again, but to no avail. The (relatively) same string of sounds came out of my mouth.

“Jean classes start in fifteen minutes.”

I was up.

 

I somehow managed to get ready at breakneck speed, spending approximately five minutes in the shower before hopping out and getting dressed in the uniform, finding a copy of my schedule that must have been tucked into the breast pocket of the jacket in the process.

“You don’t have to wait for me,” I managed to call out around a mouthful of toothpaste from in the bathroom. “We’ll both be late.”

“I don’t mind,” Marco said, and I could practically _hear_ the smile in his words.

I walked back into the other room and stood by Marco, ready to go. From where we stood I could see us in the mirror that hung on the back of the door. Our uniforms consisted of dark dress pants paired with a white button down. Overtop we wore the tan blazer that had the school logo—the blue and white overlapping wings—embroidered over the breast. We both had blue ties hung around our necks.

Compared to Marco, I looked…unconventional. Where Marco appeared to be perfect prep school material, I could be described as the complete opposite. His uniform was straight and in order, with hair perfectly parted in the middle. Hell, he even had on actual dress shoes, the kind that you were _supposed_ to wear. I, on the other hand, looked like I had just rolled out of bed (which, I suppose, was true).

My tie hung loose and uneven around my neck, making it look like I barely knew how to tie a tie (also true). I wore an old, tattered pair of converse sneakers on my feet, and to top off my look I had just shoved my favorite black beanie over top of my unbrushed, two-toned hair. Marco’s eyes followed mine to the mirror and took in my appearance. He didn’t even mention it. This kid was too nice, I swear.

“Ready to go?” he asked. I nodded, following him out of the room.

 

We were walking down the main stretch of campus when I pulled out my schedule to see what I have.

“Ooooh, what classes do you have?” Marco asked, leaning over to peer at the piece of paper. I handed it to him. After expecting it for a moment, he returned it to me.

“We have History, Calculus, and lunch together,” he said, grinning. I found myself smiling back. “We’ve got History first.”

“Alright, cool,” I nodded. I remember that Armin had pointed out the Social Studies building up by the Administration building during my ‘tour’.

We were almost halfway there (and most definitely going to be late) when I saw my salvation: A stand off to the side of the path labeled “Trost Coffee”.

“Jea-!”

“Marcoholdonaminute,” I cut him off, rushing over and pulling my wallet out of my pocket.

A moment later I returned to him with a cup marked “TC” filled with black coffee. He looked over and saw what I got, causing his face to scrunch up.

“I don’t know how you can drink that stuff. I think it’s disgusting.”

I stared at him.

 

We walked into the History classroom just as the bell rang. The teacher stood at the front of the room, and his eyes instantly snapped over to us. Marco slowly moved away to his seat in the back of the room while the teacher approached me until he was literally inches away from my face.

“Who might you be?” he asked, breathing in my face so that I could smell the coffee in his breath.

“Jean Kirschtien, transfer student,” I replied, undoubtedly sending my own coffee breath over. He looked me up and down before nodding to himself.

“Mr. Shadis,” he said as way of introduction. “Now get to a seat.”

I complied, taking the seat that Marco was gesturing to next to him in the back.

 

By the time Shadis had dismissed us I would have sworn that I had aged at least ten years. _”If I have to hear one more thing about Archduke Ferninand, I might actually blow my brains out,”_ I had thought.

Marco and I had gotten up to walk out of the building together and I told him just that. He laughed.

Once we were outside we split up since the Arts building was located directly across from the Social Studies one, and he had said something about having Graph Design next. I, on the other hand, got to march all the way back to essentially where we started. I had to get to American Literature, which was down by the dorms.

We said our farewells, a simultaneous mumbling of “Later dude” and “See you!” which led to me turning away quicker than I probably should have in order to hide the blush I could feel spreading to my cheeks.

I pondered, for a moment, on the fact that we wouldn’t see each other until lunch, but an instant later I forced the thought from my mind.

 

American Literature passed with ease; English had always been one of my better subjects. I was shocked to find out that I had been placed in Psychology. It was interesting, to say the least. The teacher was… _eccentric_ , to say the least. They had flitted about the room the whole time, talking non-stop about the human psych. French came easily to me, considering that my mother is French (she had moved here when she was a child) and taught me to speak it from a young age. I took the class specifically for this reason. I had also been pleased to discover that I had Physics with Armin, which even from the one day that I’d known him, I knew it would help my grade. Where I had always excelled in English, I barely managed to scrape through the sciences with a passing grade, ever since middle school.

Lunch eventually came around and I headed to the cafeteria over by the dorms and wandered around for a while until I heard my name being called from a few tables away.

I smiled.

It was Connie, this time, creating a scene, causing random lunch-goers to pause and look over at him. However, they quickly got over themselves and continued eating, chattering with their friends. I assumed that this was a normal thing around here.

They sat at a circle table here, too. I walked over and sat myself down into an empty chair between Marco and Reiner, receiving greetings as I did so.

“Hey, Jean!” Marco had said, turning to give me one of the so obviously trademark Marco grins that I presumed was permanently plastered onto his face.

“’Sup?” I asked. _“Yeah, you go Jean,”_ I thought. _“You’re so cool.”_

“Nothing, we were just abou—“, he began, before he was interrupted.

“Haaaay, horse-face,” I heard from across me. There sat Eren Jaeger. Anger flared up inside of me. I had barely opened my mouth (and was this close to standing up) to voice my retort when a hand flew over and slapped over _his_ mouth.

“I’m sorry about him,” Armin had said, turning his head to give him a stern look. It seemed that Mikasa’s usual job of ‘keeping Eren out of trouble’ is transferred over to Armin during school hours. “He’s just upset that Levi just wrung his ass in Calculus.”

“S’fine,” I mumbled. Marco spoke again, breaking the tension.

“Anyway, we were all about to go get food!”

And true to Marco’s word, that’s what we did.

 

I was learning more and more about these people every day, it seemed. Connie ate just as much as Sasha did, it seemed, eating his entire lunch and part of Bertolt’s. When I was finished, I offered up the remainder of my chicken sandwich (I had already eaten the fries). He snatched the sandwich off of my tray before I was even finished asking if he wanted it.

Eren, it turned out, was a major fucking douchebag. He made shitty comments to and/or about everyone at the table (and argued with Armin about it), excluding Marco. I mentioned this to him.

“’Dunno,” he shrugged. “The freckles, probably. Can’t be mad at the freckles.” I nodded in agreement. Marco, on the other hand, was turning a shade resembling that of the ketchup Connie had smeared on the corner of his mouth. I suppressed a chuckle.

 

Lunch passed all too quickly and before I knew it I stood in the locker room in the gym, clad in the shitty blue mesh shorts and white t-shirt adorned with the same crest of that on our blazers that the school required that we wore for PE. I was not looking forward to this class.

Now, I’m just putting this out there: I was not good at sports. Now, I know there’s this stereotype that gay people aren’t good at sports. It was complete coincidence that these two things coincide.

One good thing about the whole thing was that I had Connie in my class. That day the teacher had instructed us to go out to the tennis courts and play for the period. Connie and I ‘played’ singles, which turned into a competition to see who could hit the most balls over the fencing.

I won.

After I had changed and put my uniform back on, I walked back outside to head to Calculus. After a minute of walking, I spotted the familiar head ahead from among the mass quantities of students migrating to and from classes.

“Marco,” I called, raising a hand up in the air to signal to him. He paused, looking around to identify the source of the noise. His eyes landed on me and he grinned, beginning to weave his way backwards through the crowd to reach me.

“Jean!” he said after finally getting to me. He turned, now, to continue walking with me in the direction we were both previously headed. “Calc, right?”

I hummed in confirmation.

“I might as well warn you now...” he said. “Remember at lunch when Armin said Eren got in trouble in Calculus by Levi?” I nodded, although I don’t believe that’s exactly how Armin had phrased it. He continued, “Well, that’s our teacher too.”

“Great.”

 

As it turns out that Armin had not been exaggerating, and Eren was not Levi’s only victim. He chewed out essentially every student in the class (excluding Marco and his freckles), yelling to them about reading their notes and told us how we were all insufferable idiots.

I was one of the first people to get out of the room when the bell rang. I had sprung out of my chair and to my feet, speeding out of the room, and I swore that I heard Levi’s condescending “Tch” as I did so.

I told Marco that I’d meet him in the room later before heading to my study hall which was back in the Social Studies building. Here I managed to finish up most of my homework, leaving me only with some Physics to do that I hoped Marco’d help me with, otherwise I was fucked.

In between questions I would talk to Reiner, who had walked in and sat down next to me a few minutes after I arrived myself. To be honest, although Bertolt was taller than him, Reiner was a bit intimidating at first but wasn’t all that bad.

He asked me what I missed most about my old school. I decided to omit the cat and instead shared my growing craving for a smoke.

“I can get you some, if you want.”

So _this_ is where you can get smokes at an academy, apparently.

I agreed immediately and pulled out my wallet, stuffing a few bills into his hand. He chuckled, and promised to have them for me within a day or two.

 

The final bell _finally_ rung (I’m hilarious), and I left, making my way back to the dorms. When I got to our room, Marco was already there. He sat on his bed messing with his phone, and having already changed out of his uniform, he wore jeans and a blue and black stripped sweater. His previously neatly parted and brushed hair was now slightly messed up, presumably from him having to pull the sweater over his head.

I decided to follow suit, and I grabbed some clothes from my drawers and closet, heading into the bathroom. I emerged a moment later in jeans and a hoodie, beanie still securing my hair.

“Whatcha doing?” I asked, tossing the dirty clothing into a pile at the end of the bed.

“Instagram,” he replied.

“Hm.”

I walked over to where I had set my bag when I first got back, digging through my bag for my phone. When I found it I unlocked it, entering the App Store. I quickly downloaded Instagram and made an account (my username being jean_kir). I found Marco by simply searching his name. His profile picture was a selfie that he took (at Titan’s, it appeared) that featured the same group of people who had been there the night before, besides myself, obviously.

I clicked the blue follow button, and while I waited for a reaction I found the other people in said group and followed them. I got what I was looking for a moment later.

“Jean?”

“Yes?”

“Did you just…”

“Did I just what, Marco?” I said, feigning innocence.

“Did you just make an Instagram right now?”

I responded in way of what could only be described unintelligible mumbles. He answered that with a smirk, and a moment later I was met with a notification telling me that Marco

Bodt started following me.

I scrolled down a page a little (not stalking him, I swear). Eventually I came across a picture of the cover of Fable II with the caption:

“After eight hours of straight gameplay, finally finished!”

Underneath, Connie commented:

“I’ve got all the keys and gargoyles, though!” To this, Marco had replied to him with:

“Shut up.”

I looked up at him, and he was still slumped against the wall behind his bed, staring intently at his phone.

“Dude,” I said, calling his attention.”

“Hm?” he replied, glancing up for only a brief moment.

“Fable,” I told him, turning my phone so that he could see what I was talking about.

“Oh, that,” he actually looked up now. “That was a few months ago. I sort of bought them all at once and binged them in a week.”

“Aw, man. I got them when I was like fourteen, and I haven’t played since!”

He looked at me in shock.

“No way. That’s too long.” He locked his phone and got up off his bed, moving to the Xbox. “We’re playing this now.”

“Hell yeah,” I said, following suit.

He turned on the TV and Xbox, popping in the disk. It was a single player game, so he only grabbed one controller.

We decided that it was better that we sat on his bed, since it was directly across from the TV. He had resumed his previous position against his wall and I took the one next to him on the left. The “Choose Your Hero” screen appeared and we settled in.

 

We played for hours, passing the controller back and forth to each other. At some point in the night I grabbed my backpack to do my Physics while he played.

Alright, when I said that I did my Physics, I meant that he did my Physics, and I simply wrote down the answers he gave me. Marco was astonishingly good at the subject, instantly giving me the answers to the questions I asked while playing the game.

It was great.

 

At one point, we got to the part where this crusty ass bandit kicked my dog, and as if that wasn’t bad enough, I actually let out a noise of distress. This caused Marco to look up at my utterly destroyed expression, up at the scene on the TV, and back to my expression, and he promptly began giggling at me.

Fucking _giggling_.

“Don’t patronize me,” I said in a low voice, but the slight smirk that came to my face betrayed me.

“You were almost in tears over the dog!” he managed in between giggles. “You were practically crying because of the dog!”

I pouted, but this only caused him to laugh even harder.

 

The rest of the night passed in this same manner, and before we knew it it was nearly two in the morning.

Upon realizing that we had class tomorrow, I stumbled back to my own bed (after saving, of course) and fell asleep not a minute later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys if you could let me know if you find any spelling or grammar mistakes, that'd be great.  
> Also, letting me know how you guys are liking it would be v fab.
> 
> I have a tumblr: helll-ena


	4. The Popcorn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which I nerd out and confess my love for Reiner.

The rest of the week went by in the same manner that the first day did. In fact, the next two weeks following did as well.

Often, us here at TAB would hang out in either my and Marco’s room or in Armin and Eren’s. If none of us had anything to do, or if it was a weekend, we’d all go to Titan’s as we did on my first day on campus and meet up with the girls.

During these weeks I grew closer to everyone, especially Marco. Maybe it was because we lived together, but I felt a strong connection to him that I could not shake. I decided not to think too much about it.

Everyone went home on the third week for three days for Thanksgiving. I got the feeling that I wasn’t wanted at home from the extreme lack of—or nonexistence of—correspondence from my parents since I left for my tour with Armin almost a month ago. I instead opted to stay at school and ate a shitty piece of dry turkey (without gravy) in the cafeteria as a feast.

Towards the end of that third week, plans came about for a Harry Potter marathon in our room on Saturday, the day after everyone came back. I got more excited than I’d care to admit.

 

Saturday finally rolled around and it was late morning when people started showing up. First came Connie and Sasha, who (for obvious reasons) had been put in charge of snacks. They each walked in with their arms weighed down with bags loaded with food from the Giant Eagle down by Titan’s, along with several boxes of pizza from Titan’s. Marco rushed to help me clear off our desks, which we decided would act as the snack bar.

While Sasha and Connie were setting up the desks (now pushed together, opposed to their usual separation of several feet) with all of the food, two padded fluffs of down blankets and pillows walked in. From behind each fluff I could see the top of both a brown and black head of hair: Eren and Mikasa. To confirm, Armin walked out from behind them a moment later holding a single pillow, presumably one that Eren dropped on the way up.

The three dropped their contributions in the middle of the floor, and with a little reorganization by Marco and Armin, our room was soon ready to house twelve teenagers for almost twenty four hours.

Next walked in Ymir. No, walked was probably a bad description. _Burst_ in would probably be more accurate, as she sped in the already-opened door, immediately assaulting Connie and me with a box of Kleenex each.

“Prepare to cry, bitches!” she shrieked, causing Christa, who had trotted in a moment later, to smack her on the arm.

It was a while before Bertolt, Reiner, and Annie appeared. In the meantime, conversation between those of us who _had_ arrived shifted to the obvious topic: Harry Potter.

“What are your guys’ houses?” Armin asked. “I’m a Gryffindor, myself,” he added. Simultaneously Connie and Sasha stopped what they were doing and turned to us.

“Hufflepuff and proud!” they screamed, ripping their _matching yellow and black scarves_ (how had I not noticed these earlier?) off of their necks, waving them with vigor.

“I’m a Slytherin,” I said, with a slight smirk on my face. I had always hated how people tended to assume that being Slytherin meant you were evil and Gryffindor meant good, but it just has more to do with your qualities. Slytherins tended to value cunning and resourcefulness, whereas Gryffindor valued bravery and nerve. A perfect example of Gryffindor not always meaning good presented itself a moment later.

“Gryffindor, of course!” Eren yelled, jumping to his feet. I saw the determined glare appear in his eyes, as it often did when he got heated about something, i.e., fourteen times a day. I rolled my own in response. He continued, “The things most important to me are my daring and exceptional nerv—“

“Yeah, alright, chill,” I had cut in. I also believed that I would have received an example of this _exceptional nerve_ had Mikasa not grabbed the back of his shirt.

“Also Gryffindor,” she stated with a bored face, still restraining Eren from kicking the shit out of me. He then had turned and began arguing with her about something before getting whacked in the head. Dumbass.

Christa’s soft voice struggled to rise above Eren’s shouts (this would be one hell of a marathon) before Ymir literally delivered a _swift kick in Eren’s ass_ , effectively shutting him up. I laughed.

“Ravenclaw,” she said, looking up at Ymir for her house.

“Slytherin,” she told us, reaching over from her spot leaning on the wall to high-five me. I returned the gesture in full. Honestly, Ymir was starting to grow on me.

Gazes shifted to Marco and I had watched as his face burned a bright red.

“Marco?” I asked. He looked up at me, and then at everyone else in the room before answering.

“Ihaven’tactuallyseenHarryPotterorreadthemoranythingokay.”

 _“WHAT!”_ I yelled, leaping up from the perched position I had assumed a few minutes ago. Even though he had been sitting next to me before I stood, I turned to face him. _“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU HAVEN’T SEEN OR READ HARRY FUCKING POTTER!”_ From around us, I noticed other looks of shock; even Annie has let her usual stoic look slip and instead wore one of mild horror. I watched as Marco sank into himself and his face turned an even deeper shade of red (I had no idea that this was even possible) out of embarrassment, and I instantly felt bad.

“I—I— I just had never been that into it when I was a kid,” he stuttered. As he attempted to explain himself, I backed down, falling back down to my seat next to him on his bed.  “And by the time I was older it just sort of seemed like it was too late, yanno?” And there he went again, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand, giving me a sheepish grin.

 _“Why do I keep noticing this?”_ I thought, trying to ignore the flushed freckles in front of me. In the process of ignoring the freckles, I also managed to ignore the fact that he was once again waiting for me to answer him as I sat there, completely absorbed in my own world and _Jesus fucking Christ, Kirschtein, you need to stop doing that._

I nodded in response, as if what he had said made any sense to me at all (how have you just not seen Harry Potter?).

Conversation broke out for a moment or two regarding which house Marco’d be assigned to when at last the remaining three walked in.

Annie and Reiner came in first, each holding two bags filled with what appeared to be several cans of Monster Energy and Red Bull. _”Keep away from Sasha and Connie unless absolutely necessary,”_ was my first thought, and my second was, _“Holy fucking shit, I think I’m in love with Reiner.”_ This, of course, was the very same instant that I saw that Reiner held in his hand a foam cup of coffee labeled “TC”. In fact, I voiced the second thought almost unthinkingly as I lunged forward to grab it out of his hand.

Since I had gotten my first cup on my first day of classes, I had practically begun to live off of the stuff. This, of course, had become common knowledge throughout the group, and I was often teased for “getting my fix”. I’d say it was an accurate description.

Finally walked in Bertolt, who was put in charge of bringing the movies themselves.

“Yeah,” he had said when we were making the plans. “I have the entire boxed set on Blu-ray.” A true god among men.

Marco got up and took the movies from him, setting them on the table while the last of the preparations were made. Armin announced that he was going to his and Eren’s room with an entire box of popcorn to pop it all, considering that they had a microwave in their room. He was almost out the door when Eren suggested (through a mouthful of chips) that he brought the microwave over instead.

While he was gone, the rest of us learned that Annie and Reiner both identify as Slytherin (to which Ymir and I gave them a solid nod of the head) and Bertolt as Hufflepuff (he was then crushed in a hug from both Connie and Sasha in response). No decision had been made as to where Marco’d go.

Soon enough Armin returned with the appliance in his arms, and then popcorn was being made. Before we knew it, most of us were settled into our respective seats, which I assumed wouldn’t change for the duration of the day. Armin handed out the fresh popcorn, giving one to me for me and Marco to share while he moved to pop _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone_ into the DVD player before crawling back into his spot next to me.

He hit play and forwarded through the previews until we saw the sign labeled “Privet Drive” flash by, and we screamed at him to stop.  
It had begun.

 

Several hours had passed and we were well into _The Chamber of Secrets_ , and it was at this point that I abandoned most attempts at paying attention to the actual movie and I found myself watching Marco watching the movie more and more until he unwittingly wove himself into the center of my attention.

I had been…very conscious of Marco, to say the least. I watched his eyes widen with shock when Harry and Ron learned that Hermione had been petrified. I softly nudged him in the side with my elbow, calling his attention to me so that I could offer him some of the (third bag of) popcorn. He nodded wordlessly, accepting by reaching into the bag and removing a large handful, dropping several pieces onto the bedspread in the process.

Immediately following he had shoved the entire handful into his mouth at once, and a bark of laughter managed to escape my mouth before I could stop myself. Marco looked up at me and instantly a blush gathered upon his cheeks again, which caused me to chuckle a bit more. This, of course, made Marco blush _more_ (who knew this was possible) and he rushed to pluck the excess popcorn from the bed, shoving this, too, in his mouth.

At this point, I thought maybe I’d been watching for perhaps a bit too long, and thought it would be best if I looked away.

In all honesty, this didn’t last too long, because as soon as I was sure that his attention had fully returned to the movie I allowed mine to shift back to him.

The rest of that movie passed without event, and the only thing that happened during _The Prisoner of Azkaban_ was the approving nod that all Mikasa, Annie, and Ymir gave when Hermione had punched Draco in the face. Following this, Ymir turned to me and shook her fist at me in a mock threat, and I stuck my tongue out at her.

Following _The Goblet of Fire_ , (“Is that Edward Cullen?” Marco asked, and I almost punched him.) we decided it was time for an intermission that involved more than a desperate dash to the bathroom every now and then. Actually, it had been Connie who announced it before he and Sasha excused themselves to head towards the cafeteria. On their way out they flicked on the lights, causing them to cackle their way down the hall while the rest of us groaned in agony.

Marco announced that he’d begin cleaning up some of the mess and grabbed one of the garbage bags we’d bought in preparation, shoving empty popcorn and chip bags into it, along with soda cans and my coffee cup from earlier. I’d just moved to help him when I saw Ymir standing in the doorway, motioning for me to follow her. I looked around, shrugged, and complied.

She led me out of the dorms before saying anything. It was almost nine now, so there weren’t as many people outside as there would have been during the day, but being a Saturday night it was still a little crowded none the less. It appeared as though she had no real destination in mind when she brought me out here, so we walked aimlessly for a minute before Trost Coffee entered my field of vision and I altered our course accordingly. Finally, she spoke up.

“Jean,” she said in a sing-song voice. I simply looked at her in response. She continued.

“Ohhh, Jeanny-boy!” I flinched this time, my mind calling forth the memories of my mother calling me that as a kid. Obviously, these times were over. Looking at her face, I was sure that Ymir didn’t see this, though.

“Jeeaaaannnno Kirschteino!” she sang now, making extravagant hand gestures, signaling this as her grand finale or whatever.

“Ymir, what the fuck?” I asked, raising an eyebrow at her. We had reached the coffee stand by now, and I gave my attention to the guy standing there, ordering two of my usual large black coffee: one for now, one for later. Ymir raised an eyebrow of her one in question of it, but nothing was said on the subject.

I thought that she had dropped whatever she was going on about earlier, too, as we left the stand and continued walking, but not really back towards the dorms. This, however, was not the case.

“Jean, honey, I do believe you’ve broken my gaydar.”

I froze for a split second, coffee halfway to my lips. It didn’t take me long (outwardly) to regain my composure (I was panicking inside. A lot.), and I finished taking a sip of coffee before I replied.

“What?” I asked, attempting to pretend that I wasn’t an inch away from a panic attack. Apparently, I did not do a good enough job.

“Relax, dude, I’m not going to out you or anything.” Then what was her point? I asked her just this.

“I couldn’t help but notice that you’ve been making heart eyes at Marco all night.” I looked at her in confusion.

“I have _not_ been making heart eyes at Marco at all,” I defended, taking another sip of my coffee. “Marco’s just my best friend. He’s been nice to me from the moment I got here; you all have.”

“Then I wonder why I haven’t been receiving heart eyes myself…,” she pondered. “Although,” she continued. “You _did_ confess your undying love for Reiner earlier.” I nodded, as if that settled it.

“Exactly. Ymir, you guys are like my family. I’ve only been here for three weeks and I fit in here a hell of a lot more than I did at home.”

“Of course you do, Jeano,” she said, smiling.

Perhaps I was off the hook?

“But seriously, Jean.” Of course not. “You can tell me, I’m not going to tell anyone.” I looked at her.

“Yeah, alright,” I sighed. “I’m about as straight as Eren is calm.”

“Yes!” she cried, pumping a fist of victory into the air. “I fucking knew it!”

“Not Marco, though,” I told her, and the victory fist dropped. “What I said is true. Marco’s just my best friend, and I wouldn’t want to risk that.” This was also the truth. It had happened once before, which is what led to my previous friendlessness, but that’s a different story.

“I’m not convinced.”

“Ymir, no.” We were now closing in on the dorms, and I wanted to drop this conversation as soon as possible.

“Whatever you say, gay boy,” she said, cackling beside me.

When we got back upstairs everyone was waiting for us before the next movie began. Ymir plopped down on the down blanket next to Christa, and I chugged the rest of the first (scalding hot) coffee before crawling back to my place by Marco. He hit play on the remote and looked over at me, giving me one of his Marco-grins.

 _“Why?”_ I thought. _“Surely you can’t just be that happy from seeing me. Stop it.”_

And then I fucking grinned back.

After which, of course, I glanced over to Ymir and saw the smug look she was giving me. I threw the empty coffee cup at her.

 

Sometime during _The Order of the Phoenix_ Reiner noticed that Connie and Sasha were looking a little tired so we agreed that they could have _one_ energy drink each. Having finished the second coffee over an hour ago, I started on one of my own and we went on watching the movie in peace. I made a pointed effort _not_ to look at Marco the whole time.

Almost two hours later, and Christa and Armin were both in tears; the tissues that Ymir had provided being put to good use. Dumbledore’s death scene had always hit me hard, too, but I put in a valiant effort to keep my composure.

Glancing over to Marco (goddamnit) and the look on his face was honestly priceless. His eyebrows were knit together and his bottom lip was sticking out in a pout and _goddamnit_ I’m not going to lie it was cute as fuck.

I was not making heart eyes at Marco.

 _The Deathly Hallows: Part 1_ passed without event except for the opening of energy drinks from all around. Christa had falling asleep at the very end of _The Half-Blood Prince._ Eren had suggested that we wake her up for the last two movies, but the idea was soon dismissed when Ymir suggested that she rammed her foot directly up his ass.

The only comment made in _Part 2_ occurred during the Gringotts scene.

“Dragon?” Marco had asked.

“Dragon,” Bertolt confirmed.

 

The sun had already come back up when the credits bean to roll. Marco nudged me with his knee.

“Jean, it’s over,” he whispered.

“Yeah,” I replied, smirking.

“Jean, I want more.”

A chorus of “Same” rang throughout the room, myself included.

Slowly but surely, everyone began to disperse from the room in the same groups they had arrived in. Ymir woke up Christa by gently shaking her and led the tired girl out of the room. Mikasa ushered an unusually quiet Eren and an overly emotional Armin out of the room, dragging the blankets and pillows with them. Bertolt, Reiner, and Annie all left, quietly discussing something of the subject of Dumbledore’s true affiliations. Connie and Sasha were the last to depart, taking with them all the leftover food. Which, admittedly, was not a lot.

Finally it was just Marco and I left to clean up the rest of the mess. We spent about ten minutes shoving garbage in bags and using the mini vac (yes, Marco had a _mini-vac_ ) to clean up crumbs before we mutually decided that this could be taken care of at a later date.

Literally seconds after this decision was made Marco crashed face first onto his bed and I assumed he was asleep before his head hit the pillow. I followed suit, letting sleep drag me down a moment later.

All was well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you guys could comment and tell me how you're liking this so far, or with any errors you find, that'd be great!  
> Also, these chapters keep getting longer and longer and I'm not sure how to feel about it. 
> 
> I have a tumblr: helll-ena


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